


First Memories - The Sensory Remix

by A Magiluna Stormwriter (ariestess)



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/F, POV Second Person, Senses, Tactile
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 13:32:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7575844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariestess/pseuds/A%20Magiluna%20Stormwriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me about the first time we made love. I want to remember."</p>
<p>"How–" Susan's voice can't quite make it there, and she has to clear her throat. "How about I show you instead."</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Memories - The Sensory Remix

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/gifts).
  * Inspired by [First Memories](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127814) by [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk). 



> Individual lines in _italics_ are telepathic speech. Individual words in _italics_ are emphasis.
> 
> Thanks to my beta for helping whip this into shape.
> 
> More coming soon...

It begins with a kiss. A soft brushing of lips that leaves a spark of heat in its wake. That brief touch triggers a chain reaction you're unable to stop, not even if your life depended on it. One kiss becomes two, becomes three, becomes a tongue darting out to drag slowly across lightly chapped skin, becomes a gasp of need as lips part, becomes a low moan as tongues touch and glide against each other. Each touch flows into the next, a symphony of sensations that makes each nerve sing until there's nothing left of you but the song and the thundering need for satiation. You want to be covered in the marks of her lips, as unique as any fingerprint, and you don't care who takes note of them.

_No, that's not it. It's close, but not_ quite _right._

Before the kiss come the touches. You would think kissing leads to touching, the natural progression of this endeavor, but you would be wrong. Long before either of you ever entertains the idea of kissing, of bruising lips with the consuming need, you have the touches that enflame the senses. A gentle squeeze of her hand on yours when she thinks no one is looking. The heat of her palm against the small of your back as she discreetly guides you away from distractions that are better left alone. Fingers in your hair, carding out the snarls that often match the state of your thoughts whenever she's near. The sensation of leather tugging against your cheek or tracing the lines of your palm; the heat of it drawn from her body and transferring itself to yours, but disappearing as soon as she moves away. You yearn to feel that supple leather on your skin, teasing you to heights of sensation that you've only fantasized about so far. Even more, you want to savor the smooth silk of her skin against yours, indelibly burning her fingerprints on your soul.

_And that's not quite right either. Go back further. You know the process. Why are you shirking it?_

First come the looks. A chance meeting of eyes across the room. A lingering glance when she walks past you, deep in conversation with one of the businessmen she deals with on a daily basis, but you catch the corner of her mouth curling upward in acknowledgment. The preternatural sensation of knowing she's near and watching you, but you're too caught up in the crisis of the moment to seek her out. The silent conversation that follows said crisis, when there's still too much to do in the aftermath but you need to reassure her that everything is fine. 

_Yes, that's it. That's where it began._

With a happy sigh, you open your eyes to find that grey gaze that has entranced you from day one, whether you can openly admit it now or not. The twinkle of amusement is mitigated by the need dilating her pupils. If you take a deep breath, you can probably smell how aroused she is right now. This has been weeks, months, in the making, and you don't want to miss a single second of it. She smiles as if reading your thoughts, and she probably is, but you don't care.

_Susan…_

She won't let up on this, and you don't want her to. A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you meet that open, unfettered gaze. With trembling fingers, you reach up to tuck a strand of that poker straight blonde hair behind her ear, stroking the shell in the process. She shivers at the sensation, lips parting slightly as she sucks in a breath. Your fingers continue to move downward along the column of her neck, until you press your thumb to the hollow at the base of her throat, feeling the pulse frantically beating there. She looks far too calm yet, keeping certain of her walls up in self-defense, something you understand all too well. Tracing back up along her neck, you gently scrape the edge of your nail against that spot just below the hairline, about two inches behind her ear. She bites her lip, trying to keep from making a sound, and you realize the control needs to be taken before she'll let you coax out those beautiful serenades with fingers, teeth, and tongue.

Your fingers move along her jaw, diverting briefly to trace the fine high cheekbone, then trace her lips. A gentle tap of a nail at the perfect white of her teeth gets her to release her trapped lower lip. It already looks plump and kiss-bruised, despite the obvious lack of any kisses exchanged in many hours now. That lip mocks you and your devotion to your work. How could anyone _choose_ to focus on paperwork when this beautiful goddess is nearby and willing to let you mold her body into a temple of pleasurable cries at each small touch of yours? Glancing down to the open vee of the silk robe where her breasts are entirely on display for you, you swallow thickly and lick your own lips.

_Please…_

With one hand still cupping her face, you lean in to cup one of her breasts, relishing the warm weight, the nipple pressing into the center of your palm. She leans into your touch, resting heavily on forearms pressed against the arms of your chair. Her face is kissably close, but you're not ready for that just yet. Muscles flexing just slightly to massage, you lean in close enough to taste the peppermint tea she's been drinking on her breath. It's an intoxicating scent, combining with the faintly floral body lotion she prefers.

_All for you._

The temptation grows too strong, and all the looks and touches just aren't enough any longer. Closing the last infinitesimal gap, your lips brush against hers. Just a brief taste for both of you, but your fingers automatically curl in possessively around her breast, and you know you're just as lost in all that is _her_ again as you were the first time. And every single time since. She shifts slightly to balance on legs that you know are weakening at the knees from this slow torture. You try to keep minimal shields up to keep her from guessing what your plans are, but you know it likely won't last long as you both feed off the feedback loop of sensation connecting all that is the two of you.

The hand cupping her cheek slips back to gently grasp of fistful of her hair, lips moving slowly and firmly against her before you gently trap her bottom and tease it until she lets out a soft whimper. Your tongue languidly strokes along her tongue, teeth, the roof of her mouth, chasing the fading taste of peppermint. Tightening your grip on her hair gets you another whimper. Scraping your nail across her nipple makes her shudder hard, and your mind is flooded with her need; the sensation amps up your own arousal, but this is about her right now. Coaxing a few images of what you could be doing to her across the telepathic bond you share is perhaps a bit cruel, but she doesn't really seem to mind because she knows what the outcome will be. Especially when you share your fantasy of wearing _those gloves_ as you fuck her senseless.

_Susan, please!_

It takes a moment to shift your own position, legs wrapping around her calves, one hand still fisting her hair, before you deepen the kiss long enough to coax another whimper from her lips. Smirking, you kiss and nip your way down her neck to nibble along her collarbone. A quick tease to her other nipple, then your hand strokes past tense abdominals to the damp curls between her thighs. It won't take long to bring her to climax, and perhaps this time you should be nice and not tease her like you could. You know you can't fumble through discovering what she likes this time, not like you did the first time, but you can use your hard-won knowledge to help her.

_I can't--_

Moving back up to kiss her again, your fingers stroke and tease her clit with exacting precision, bringing her to the edge of orgasm in less time than even you expected. Exerting just the right amount of pressure at the last second is enough to make her stiffen briefly before shuddering as she comes, a loud cry of your name sounding loudly in the air and in your mind. Your fingers gentle, letting her ride out the aftershocks until her head slumps against your shoulder. Without thought, you move to stand, picking her up bridal style, and carry her back to bed. She sprawls out inelegantly, grinning sleepily as you undress to join her.

_That's not how it happened, but I won't complain… Much._

You chuckle and slip under the covers next to her. When she's rested a bit, she'll repay the favor. Or maybe you'll just go find her gloves and torture her. It doesn't matter. The fact that she's here, that your life is whole again, is all that matters.


End file.
